Lying          
           In   My   Room,          
  Arms Flopped Over The Edge Of The Bed. 
     Something  Poking  My  Left Hand, 
                  Something     Slimy, 
      Slithering  Around The  Fingers, 
          Up   The    Arm.          
 Is  It   Drug-Fueled  Apathy?         
         I   Don'T   Move   The   Arm. 
                                 
 Whatever It Is That'S Tasting Me,     
 It   Moves    Further    Up,          
 Reaches    The    Armpit.             
 I  Turn  My  Head   Toward  It.       
            Looks    Like    Seagrass. 
        It'S   Kinda   Cute.        
                                 
      Once  It'S Up My Neck And On  My 
 Face,    I    Bite    It.             
     The  Texture Is Like  That  Of  A 
 Juicy                          Grape, 
    And  The Squish Tastes  Like Sweet 
                      Cucumber.    
    It'S Very Good.    And I     
 Suck    More   Of   It   In.          
             Chew    It.            
    The Seagrass Doesn'T Seem To Mind. 
                                 
     Apathy  Gone,   I  Sit  Up.      
     The  Tendrils  Are Stuck Under   
     My Shirt,   Entering By  The Arm 
 And  Exiting Through  The  Collar.     
   This Makes  It Hard  For  Me To Push 
 More   Of   It   In  My   Mouth.       
   I Make To Remove The  Shirt, But The 
 Seagrass Finally Protests When I  Try To 
 Move     My     Left     Arm.          
     So  -  Eating  It  Is   Ok,      
        Moving  It  Is  Not.